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Not What We Imagined
Ghost in the corner
They're not white like we imagined
They don't look like angels
They have a somber disposition
a faded face
faint lines of a silhouette
I asked for her name
She took on a look of surprise
Moved her gaze to the floor
as if pondering how to answer
She opened her grey mouth
and whispered "I am yours"
This is a brilliantly compact ghost story, and, if you don't mind, I have several more questions about it (especially its provenance---what inspired you to write this). It is chillingly beautiful.
Starward